Faithless
by Dreamscapes Symphonic
Summary: AU for season one's "Faith." LeGrange is a fraud. And now Sam is doing everything he can to save his brother.


Written for the prompt_: "Faith"-based. Dean doesn't get healed. A look at his deteriorating health and eventual death. Make me weep! (Bonus points if Papa John shows up to visit and comfort his boys.)_

* * *

><p>"Hey, Dad. It's Sam. Uh, you probably won't even get this, but, uh, it's Dean. He's sick, and uh... the doctors say there's nothing they can do. Um. But, uh, they don't know the things we know, right? Um. So, don't worry, cause, uh, I'm gonna do whatever it takes to get him better. All right. Just wanted you to know. "<p>

LeGrange is a fraud. Dean knew it from the moment Sam mentioned the words "faith healer." But Sam had clung to the hope right up until the moment LeGrange had laid his hands on Dean's forehead. Dean had collapsed and Sam had run up on stage, his own heart nearly stopped by fear and anticipation. But Dean had lay panting on the grimy floor, his skin still white and eyes still dark and sunken.

"Sammy," Dean says as Sam helps him into the passenger seat of the Impala. "Dude, please."

Sam doesn't answer, just shuts the door and crosses over to the driver's side. He starts the car and the radio roars to life as he pulls out of the muddy parking lot.

Dean reaches over and shuts off the music. "There's nothing we can do." he says softly.

"Yes, there is, Dean," Sam says, eyes fixed on the road. "There's gotta be something. Hoodoo, maybe. Hell, maybe we can get some psychic to hook us up with the other side. Strike some kind of deal or something-"

"You are not making any deals, Sammy. No fucking way."

"But Dean-"

"No!" The force of the word sends Dean into a coughing fit, after which he falls limp against the seat.

They are silent until Sam pulls into the motel parking lot. He stops the car, but neither of them move for a long while.

"Do you want me to take you back to the hospital?" he asks finally. "Maybe they were wrong. Maybe..."

He trails off and Dean opens his eyes. "I already told you," he says. "I'm not going to die in a hospital."

"Maybe you don't have to..." Sam can barely get the word out, "die at all."

"Everybody dies," Dean says, closing his eyes again.

Before Sam can respond, he continues. "I'd rather not die now, but if I have to, I want it to be with you. Please don't leave me somewhere like that."

Sam sighs. "Fine. But I'm going to keep looking. Seriously, there's got to be something."

* * *

><p>One week later and Sam's got nothing. He's called Bobby multiple times and the older hunter has given him everything he can. They're following leads as quickly as possible, with Sam keeping a watchful eye on Dean's worsening condition.<p>

Dean sleeps more than anything now, either in a motel bed or curled up in the passenger seat as Sam drives toward their next disappointment. When he's awake, he is calm in a way Sam has never seen before. He hums softly along with the radio or watches the trees fly by. Sometimes he will watch Sam, tired eyes thoughtful.

This behavior scares Sam. Dean is resigned. He's accepted his fate, something Sam knows he can never do.

Dean speaks as they make their way down route fifty-two in Indiana. Sam is so focused on their destination, a coven outside Indianapolis, that he barely registers his brother's voice at first.

"Never did get a chance to teach you how to care for the old girl," Dean muses, running a hand down the dashboard. His eyes are drooping as he looks at Sam, who looks back. "Wish I did, don't want anything to happen to her when I'm gone."

Sam looks back at the road. "You aren't going anywhere, so it's not going to be a problem."

For a few moments, all he can feel is the now-familiar stare. "Talk to Bobby," Dean says, his voice hoarse. "He'll show you what to do."

* * *

><p>Two weeks since LeGrange. Three weeks since the rawhead. And still, Sam has nothing. But there's no more driving. Two days earlier, they'd arrived at their motel and Dean had fallen into bed, unable to get up since. Sam was terrified to leave him, too scared of what he might find on his return.<p>

But luckily they have enough supplies to last a few days. Which is all they need, Sam tells himself as he scours the internet for anything, anything, because he is going to find something. The solution is right there, on the next messageboard, in the next emailed inquiry. He hasn't slept in two nights, but that's okay because there'll be plenty of time to sleep after Dean is cured. He will want to drive again, Sam knows he misses it, and Sam can sleep next to him as they drive on, back on task, toward Dad, toward the demon. He just needs to keep going, one more forum, one more email check, one...

"Sammy," Dean whispers from his bed.

Sam looks up, eyes taking too long to focus. "Are you okay?" he asks, standing up and stepping toward his brother. "Are you hurting? Do you need..."

Dean shakes his head, grimacing at the slight movement. "I'm okay," he says, "Just...sit with me for a minute."

He knows he needs to keep searching, but something about Dean's face makes him nod and climb onto the bed. He sits with his back against the headboard and Dean, clearly making a monumental effort just to move, slowly pulls himself up until his head lays on Sam's chest. Sam shifts, putting his arms around his brother, one on his back, on draped around his neck. He can feel Dean's thready pulse against his hand.

They lay still for a moment. Sam figures Dean has fallen asleep. His own eyes are so heavy, but he can't sleep. He needs to watch out for his brother.

"Hey Jude...don't be afraid..."

Dean's voice is scratchy and almost completely gone. But Sam can hear him singing, the song he always used to comfort himself or Sam when they were young. Sam knows there's a reason for Dean's attachment to the tune, but he's never asked.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow he will ask.

He joins in, voice wavering with exhaustion. "Take a sad song and make it better..."

His voice trails off as he falls asleep, Dean's voice still in his ears.

* * *

><p>The bedside clock glows seven pm when he wakes. But he barely registers the time before he realizes the body against his is unnaturally still, the pulse beneath his fingers gone.<p>

And finally, he allows himself to cry.

* * *

><p>"Hi Dad, it's Sam. I, uh, I don't know if you'll get this. Don't know if you got my last message. But I needed to call...<p>

"Dean...Dad, Dean died tonight. I tried. I tried so fucking hard, but no one could help. But he...it was peaceful. He died in his sleep...

"I'm bringing him to Bobby's. We're going to...bury him there. You should come. If you can be bothered to go to your son's funeral, that is. Dammit, Dad..."

"Dad, I don't...I don't know what to do."


End file.
